Kindness
by FadedPromise
Summary: Young Lucien has just lost his mother, but is determined to remember the most important thing she taught him. I don't own DBM. Also, I'm sure it's evident that I'm not Australian, so I hope you can forgive any glaring errors.
1. Chapter 1

Lucien woke early, as usual, when the sun was just peeking through the curtains of his bedroom. But that was the only thing that was usual about this day. Everything felt too heavy - the sunlight, the bedclothes, his pyjamas, his limbs, but especially his heart. Yesterday he had watched them lower his mother's body into the ground and saw the dirt thrown over the box that contained her body. He hadn't even been allowed to see her, to say goodbye. And tomorrow he would be on a train to Melbourne and a new school there, away from all that was familiar.

He wanted to pull the covers over his head and stay in bed all day, maybe all year, but there was too much to do. With a sigh, he flung the bedclothes aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, determined to get on with the business of the day. Trying to focus his mind solely on what needed to be done, he washed up and dressed carefully and neatly. In front of the mirror, he fixed his tie, straightening it just so, the way his mother had showed him. Studying his reflection, satisfied that everything was as it should be, he glanced up and inhaled sharply as he saw her in the mirror standing behind him. His dear mother, looking as beautiful as ever, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"My sweet Lucien," she said softly, smiling at him. "Remember, _mon cher_ : above all, kindness."

He reached up, intending to squeeze her fingers, but just as he was about to touch her she melted from sight. He blinked away the tears. His heart squeezed tight in his chest. "Kindness," he repeated softly.

Shaking away the vision, Lucien squared his shoulders and left his bedroom. He trudged down the stairs of the old house that was so empty now without his mother's incandescent presence to fill it up. Everything around him seemed darker, quieter without her there.

No one else was up this early, not his father or Mrs. Farnham the housekeeper or any of the dozens of people who had been milling about like carrion birds ever since…

He glanced in the direction of his mother's studio. It would be a comfort to slip in there and sense her all around him, but he had watched his father lock the door and warn Mrs. Farnham to keep out. Still, he walked over and tried the handle, but to no avail. It was as if they were trying to erase his mother entirely. Lucien lifted his head, squared his jaw, and tapped his heart, where he vowed he would always keep her close.

Remembering all the tasks he had to do this day, he went in search of breakfast. He found the kitchen deserted too, but cakes and pies and all other manner of food covered all the surfaces, offerings sent over by well-meaning neighbors. Bacon and eggs, or even porridge, seemed out of the question on this morning, so he broke off a piece of chocolate cake and ate it in his hand as he headed out the door, pausing only to take an apple and stuff it into his pocket, then grab his cap.

The fields around his home were filled with the chirping of birds and insects but few people seemed to be about yet. It promised to be a warm winter's day. This early there was still dew on the ground and a slight wind lifted the leaves gently. He saw a couple of farm hands tilling the fields but only from a distance as he made his way along the damp thoroughfare.

His first stop was outside a well-maintained farmhouse a few miles down the road. He whistled softly, and a brown and white spaniel erupted from the barn door and came running toward him. "Rosie!" he cried, crouching down to greet her. She licked all over his face, causing him to laugh at her enthusiasm.

He patted her head gently. "I won't be able to come visit again," he told her. "Father is sending me away. Just like he did to you, I suppose." He rested his forehead against her neck. "Are they taking good care of you here? That's a good girl."

He scratched behind her floppy ears and her whole body seemed to wriggle in appreciation. His heart swelled painfully. With a near-sob, he knelt and threw his arms around her neck. "I can't see you any more, Rosie, but I won't forget you. Not ever." He continued to hug her as she nuzzled against his cheek, her damp nose brushing against him.

He stayed that way until the farmer's three young children emerged from the house and called for Rosie. Only then did he stand up. The gentle dog looked from Lucien to the others, then back again, clearly torn.

"You go now," he told her, pointing to where the youngsters waited.

With a last look at him, Rosie darted away. Lucien watched her until she reached the children and saw them give her the attention she craved. He nodded, satisfied that she was in good hands. He needn't worry about Rosie, at least.

Hands in his pockets, he continued walking down the road, kicking at stones and swiping at low-hanging tree branches, until eventually reaching the town center. Just ahead of him he saw Sid Bartell's grey horse in front of a dilapidated cart filled with scrap metal, hitched to a railing near the Colonists' Club. He patted the horse's flank as he walked around to its head. Lucien pulled the apple from his pocket and held it out to the huge animal that towered over the boy's slender form. "There you are, Fred," he said softly.

"Not that way, lad" said a voice behind him.

Lucien looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Bartell."

"Mornin'. Here now, let me show you how to do it. Fred's choppers aren't so good any more." The older man took the apple from Lucien and bit off a piece, then held it out to his horse who promptly gobbled it up.

Watching closely, Lucien nodded at the process. "Yes, I see. Thank you, sir."

"It's a bit early for you to be in town, isn't it?" asked Mr. Bartell. "No school today?"

"No, sir. Not today."

"Ahh, that's right. You've just lost your mum, haven't you?"

Lucien nodded solemnly, staring at the ground and rubbing a shoe carefully in the dirt. Seeing the sympathy in people's eyes tended to make him want to cry, and his father had told him he was too old now to be crying in public. When he had control of himself once more, he said, "I've come to say goodbye to you and Fred. I'll be going away tomorrow."

"Off on an adventure, are you?"

"Not quite, sir. Just off to boarding school, I'm afraid."

Mr. Bartell's bushy eyebrows shot up, but Lucien watched him attempt to hide his surprise. "Well, I suppose school can be a new adventure, too."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Lucien said slowly.

"Life is what you make of it, lad. Bad things happen to all of us, my boy. You can let them make you weak, feel sorry for yourself, or you can use them to make you stronger. It's your choice."

"Yes, sir." Lucien thought about that. He wanted to be stronger. Certainly his mother had wanted that for him, he knew. He had heard his parents argue about him, his father claiming her attentions made him soft. His mother had insisted she was raising him to be a strong man, strong enough to overlook the frailties of others. Lucien resolved to make her proud.

"I understand. I'll try, sir." He held out his hand to the man. "Goodbye."

Mr. Bartell shook his hand, resting the other on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

Lucien looked up into his eyes for just a moment, then had to look away. "I'd best be getting on now."

"Safe travels, son."

Lucien nodded. He could feel the man's eyes still on him as he turned and walked over to the stairs leading up to the Colonists' Club.

He had been coming here to the club with his father for as long as he could remember. The place was stuffy and old-fashioned, but at the same time there was a sense of comfort here. Part of it was the routine and familiarity, he supposed, but the major factor was, of course, the presence of Mr. Drury. Cec.

Lucien stood in the doorway, turning his cap in his hands and looking inside. He knew the rules of the club, no visitors unless invited in by a member. There weren't many people inside at this time of the day, but it would be full up in a few hours. He recognized a couple of people. There was the mayor with Mr. McAvoy, who looked angry, just as his boy Donald always did. At least Lucien wouldn't have to deal with Donald McAvoy at school any longer, so there was that.

Mr. Michael Tyneman was in the club, too. Lucien had been told that Mr. Tyneman's younger son Edward would be at his new school. If Edward was anything like his brother Patrick, though, that wasn't much of a recommendation for the place.

From behind the bar emerged Mr. Drury. When he spotted Lucien, he came over to greet him.

"Master Lucien, what brings you here today? Where's your father?"

"Good day, Mr. Drury. Father is still at home, I believe. Actually, I came to see you, if I may?"

"Yes, of course. I'm honored. Please do come in."

Father never allowed him to sit at the bar and Mr. Drury knew that. Lucien followed him as he led the way into the lounge.

"Would you like something to eat, Master Lucien?"

"I don't think so, sir. But thank you."

"Well then, what can I do for you?"

Lucien paused, overwhelmed at everything in his life that was changing. And then, for the first time Lucien could remember, Mr. Drury sat down beside him. "Let me say how every sorry I am for the loss of your mother. She was a lovely woman. She will be sorely missed."

"Thank you, sir," said Lucien. "Yes, I think she will be. I …" He stopped again, fighting for control, twisting his hands together tightly.

Mr. Drury said nothing, just rested his hand atop the boy's and waited for him to continue.

When he felt that he could speak without his voice breaking, Lucien looked up at this man who had always been so kind and patient with him. "I've come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye is it?" said Mr. Drury, frowning.

"Yes, sir. I'll be leaving in the morning for Melbourne. Boarding school."

Lucien almost missed the small gasp. After a short pause, Mr. Drury said, "I see."

"Yes," said Lucien, looking down again. "My father says… Well, he thinks it will be best."

"He's only thinking of you, you know."

"I'm sure you're right. He probably won't have much time for me anyway now that… Well, now that everything's changed."

"Your father is a good man, Master Lucien. I'm certain he's just concerned about your welfare."

Lucien was about to reply otherwise but thought it would not be kind, either to his father or to Mr. Drury, who was his father's friend. "Yes. Right you are," he said. "I want to thank you for… putting up with me. Perhaps I can see you if I come home at holidays."

"Of course, Master Lucien. You will always be welcome here, with or without your father. Always. It has been my pleasure to serve you."

Smiling gently, Lucien stood and shook hands. "Thank you. Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye, Master Lucien. Best of luck to you in Melbourne."

These farewells were becoming more difficult, but there was nothing else for it. One more to go. Lucien made his way back down onto the street, but before he could proceed he was flagged down by a passing automobile. He peered through the window to see the Clasby ladies, Nell and Agnes. They had been great friends of his mother's for as long as he could remember. Miss Nell was very dear to him, but Miss Agnes could be just a bit intimidating at times. She was the only lady in Ballarat that drove her own automobile.

"Good day," he said, touching the bill of his cap.

"Good day. I thought that was you, Lucien, dear," said Miss Nell, reaching out the window to squeeze his arm gently. "What are you doing in town?"

"I had… some business to attend to."

"Well, if your business is finished, young man, we can give you a ride home," said Miss Agnes. "That's where we're headed."

"It's very kind, thank you, but I have one more stop to make first. Perhaps I'll see you after that."

Miss Nell was about to say something, but Miss Agnes cut her off. "Very well then, Lucien. We will see you later."

He gave a small wave to the ladies, touching his cap once more, and set off again.

His last destination was his school. Or his former school now, he supposed. It was getting along into the afternoon when he reached it, and he was beginning to feel a little hungry but food could wait. He stood outside the schoolyard gate; class should be ending for the day shortly.

There was no one in sight yet, aside from a couple of sheep in the pasture across the way. Looking around for something to entertain himself, he spotted a couple of sturdy sticks on the ground. He retrieved them, and after a moment of weighing them in his hands carefully and breaking the longer one so they were roughly the same size, he used them to drum against the schoolyard fence. He was just finishing a rousing rendition of _Puttin' on the Ritz_ when the bell rang and the school doors burst open, spewing forth the pupils.

Several of them stared at him curiously as they went by, some giving him a wide berth, as though losing a parent might somehow be contagious. Lucien didn't really blame them. How could they know what it was like?

Finally his friend Matty Lawson emerged. Taller than Lucien and rangy of limb, Matt was looking over his shoulder and almost passed Lucien without seeing him. At the last moment he stopped, staring at the sandy-haired boy.

"Lucien. Are you all right?" asked Matt.

"Yes. Well, no, not really," Lucien admitted.

"No, I wouldn't think so." Matt glanced over his shoulder again, then took Lucien's arm, pulling him along. "I, uh, I have to get home, but is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'll walk along with you," said Lucien.

"But your house is in the other direction," Matt pointed out.

"That's all right," said Lucien. "I have time."

Matt shrugged at that, but kept walking. "When are you coming back to school?" he asked.

"I'm not. That is, not to this school."

At that, Matt stopped walking and stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going away. A posh boarding school in Melbourne. I leave tomorrow morning."

Matty stared a moment longer, before nodding and moving on. "Your father."

Lucien hummed in confirmation. "I don't think he wants me around now."

"Oh." Matt looked straight ahead, not wanting to embarrass Lucien by meeting his eyes. "For how long? At the school, I mean. When can you come back home?"

Lucien paused to consider. "When I'm a man, I think."

"Oh," Matt said again. "Sorry, mate."

"Yes, well," said Lucien. "Anyway, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye." He held out his hand.

Matt stared at it a moment, then shook it, pumping several times. "Bye, Lucien."

"You'll try to keep an eye on the little ones?" He and Matty had been trying their best all year to prevent a few of the older children from bullying the youngest students.

Gulping slightly, Matt nodded. "I'll try."

"Thank you, Matty. And thank you for being my friend."

Matt punched Lucien lightly on the shoulder. "Go home," he said.

Lucien watched him walk away until Matt was nearly out of sight, then turned around to go back to his own house. After tomorrow it would no longer be home, he supposed.

He let himself in through the back door, wondering what he could find to eat. Miss Nell seemed to be waiting for him in the kitchen.

"There you are," she smiled. "I've just made you a sandwich for your tea. You wash up while I pour." Her gentle smile always made Lucien feel a little better about things.

"That'll be lovely. Thank you." He did as instructed, only to discover that after a few bites he wasn't really hungry any longer. But since she had gone to so much trouble for him, he decided the least he could do was finish it.

She fixed the tea then sat down at the table with him, turning her own cup around in her hands as she watched him. "Do you need to talk about anything, Lucien? You must be confused with all that's been going on around you."

He looked at her. He had so many questions, so many things tumbling around in his mind, that he hardly knew where to start. He picked the biggest one. "Why did she die?"

Miss Nell inhaled sharply, tears springing to her eyes.

Lucien quickly held up his hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you…"

"No, no, my dear boy. You've done nothing wrong. I just wish I had an answer for you that made sense."

"She was a good person, yes?"

"Yes, she was, dear. A very good person. She loved you very much, you know."

He nodded. That was one thing he knew without a moment's doubt. "I just wonder why, though. Why she had to leave. Was God punishing someone? Is it because I was bad?"

"One thing I'm sure of is that God did not take your mother away to punish you, Lucien. Perhaps… Perhaps God saw what a wonderful person your mother was and he wanted her company. She always made everyone around her feel happier. Everyone loved your mother."

Lucien thought that over. "God must be quite selfish if he took her away from all of us that loved her so he could have her to himself."

"No, that's…" Miss Nell began, but she was interrupted by Agnes, who stood at the pass-through window looking on.

"That's exactly right," said Miss Agnes. "She was taken away from all of us that loved her. It's not fair one bit, is it?"

Lucien shook his head.

"In fact, there are a lot of things going on that aren't fair," Miss Agnes continued. "Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be much we can do about them. We fight where we can, though. And we never stop pointing out the things that aren't fair. We never just accept them, do we?"

"No, ma'am," said Lucien.

Miss Nell glanced sharply at Agnes. "Lucien, darling, if you've finished your tea, perhaps we should get your things packed up for school. You'll want to be sure we have everything you'll need."

"Yes," he said slowly. "I've never been to boarding school though, so I'm not entirely sure what I need."

"Then I'll help you decide, shall I?" said Miss Nell.

"Do that," said Miss Agnes, "while I make one last attempt to talk some sense into that philistine."

In his bedroom they found a packing case already loaded with his clothing, shoes, and other essentials. The work of the housekeeper, old Mrs. Farnham, no doubt. He would have to remember to thank her.

With Miss Nell's help, he added in a few of his favorite books, his penknife, a magnifying glass, and the pocket watch his mother had given him, passed down from his grandfather.

"Now then, what toys would you like to take with you?"

Lucien looked away. "None, I think. After all, I'm going away to school to learn to be a man."

"Lucien, dear boy, that won't happen overnight. You have years to learn that. You're still a child now."

He shook his head fiercely. Couldn't she understand? "The quicker I become a man, the sooner Father will let me come home."

He instantly regretted telling Miss Nell when he saw the tears in her eyes, but before he could attempt to take it back, she had gathered him up in a hug.

He patted her back somewhat awkwardly. "Really, I'll be fine," he assured her. "It must be a very good school, after all, or Father wouldn't have chosen it."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right. Now, you finish up here, and I'll be right back. Save room in your bag for one last thing, won't you?"

"Yes, of course," said Lucien.

When she had disappeared, he sat down on the bed for a moment, thinking. He would have to be more careful of what he said to others. He didn't need to upset everyone just because he was being sent away. That wasn't very kind.

When he heard footsteps approaching, he returned to his packing, trying to force himself to look a little more cheerful.

"Now there," said Miss Nell, "I'm sure you recognize this." She held out a gold foil candy box.

Lucien couldn't help but smile. "Mother's favorite sweets."

"That's right. Now I want you to take them with you. Whenever you are feeling a little blue or missing home too much, you can have a treat and remember how happy your mother always was when she had a box of bonbons."

"I will," Lucien promised, smiling at the thought. "Thank you, Miss Nell. What a wonderful gift. It will be like having Mother with me, won't it?"

"It will indeed. Now, if we're done here, maybe you'd like to go out to the garden before dinner. Your father seems to be busy with patients. Mrs. Randall and her children, I think."

Lucien thanked her again. He placed the box of sweets in his trunk carefully so it would not be damaged, then smiled at Miss Nell and excused himself to go down the stairs.

He was taking his cap from its hook near the door when he heard the sound of a bump, followed by a yelp of pain. He hurried around the corner toward his father's surgery to see a little girl, maybe five years old or so, sprawled on the floor, grimacing and rubbing her head. Her dark hair was in braids and her huge blue-green eyes were filled with tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear. What happened to you, young lady?" he said gently, helping her to her feet and peering at the bump rapidly rising on her forehead. He brushed back her bangs to get a better look. "Are you all right?"

"I hit my head on the table," the little girl sniffed. "It hurts."

"I'll bet it does, Miss Randall is it?"

"My name is Jean," she told him. "Jean Randall."

"Hello, Jean Randall. I'm Lucien Blake. Now let's see if we can find a bit of ice to help with that bump, shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Three weeks later…_

"Seriously, Luke, again? What do you have against Ed Tyneman anyway?" Roddy Taylor stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at Lucien's blackening eye and split lip.

"You know precisely what I have against that lout." Lucien glared back at his friend. "He's a blowhard and a bully."

"He's also a prefect," Roddy pointed out. "And you're new here. You know who they're going to believe, especially when you won't even tell them what he's doing to the little chaps."

"I fight my own battles."

 _And everyone else's, too,_ Roddy thought.

Lucien flexed his right hand, examining the damage to his knuckles. "Besides, I may be new here but I can see how things work. His father gives the school a lot of money so they make him prefect and he can get away with anything he wants."

"And you're already the best bowler on the house cricket team which is why you're only in detention for two days instead of the rest of the term," Roddy pointed out.

Lucien grinned. "Good old Studley House, hurrah!"

"Yes, well, you're still playing with fire, going at Tyneman that way. Blimey, Luke, he's four years older and twice your size!"

"I can't turn a blind eye and let him torment those poor little chaps. It's not right."

"No, it isn't," Roddy agreed. "But why does it have to be you?"

Lucien jammed his hands in his pockets and stuck out his chin. "Because there's no one else, is there?"

Late for morning mass, Lucien ran across the common, one hand holding his cap in place. His foot slipped on the wet grass, and when he paused to regain his balance he heard a sound from behind a large eucalyptus tree. Someone was clearly in distress. He glanced toward the chapel, knowing any further delay might mean another detention, but he could hardly walk away from whoever was in trouble.

"Hello," he said softly. "Need some help there?"

A tiny head topped by a shock of dark hair peeked out. "Luke?"

"Kenny Rosemont. What's wrong, mate?"

The small boy shrugged, his lips pressed together as he came out from behind the tree.

"Not talking, eh?" Lucien put his hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "Well, then, we'd better get on to mass before we both find more trouble. What do you say? You wouldn't want to get detention and miss your tennis match, would you?" The boy was small in stature everywhere but on a tennis court, where he wielded a racket nearly as big as he was and confounded all comers.

Kenny shook his head and fell into step beside Lucien.

"I don't suppose your problem has anything to do with that bloke Tyneman?" Lucien said, not looking at Kenny but noticing that his steps faltered.

After a moment Kenny said softly, "Why does he hate me?"

Lucien stopped abruptly and crouched down to be at eye level with the smaller lad. "He doesn't hate you. Not really. You've done nothing wrong."

"Then why?"

"I don't know. Maybe he needs to feel stronger."

"What can I do?" asked Kenny, his eyes wide with apprehension. "Every morning…"

Lucien tapped him on the arm. "Today will be the last morning. Tomorrow you come and get me first thing, right? I'll see to Edward Tyneman. Now let's get to mass. We wouldn't want to miss Father's bloody boring sermon, would we?" He grinned, and Kenny returned it, both boys breaking into a run.

Lucien had found the trap door leading to the roof above Studley House the first week he'd been at school. Since then he had used it as a place of refuge whenever he needed to be away from the rowdy common room.

The sun was setting as he reread the letter from his father. No news from home, no word of the people he cared about, just a long criticism of Lucien's behavior. Lucien tried to dismiss it, but he couldn't help repeating the words over and over in his mind. Ruffian. Disrepute. Disgrace to the family. Embarrassment to his mother. That was the one that pained him the most.

Lucien shook his head fiercely. No. His mother would never have objected to him standing up for what was right.

He made his way to the far edge of the roof and reached up under the eaves. He couldn't help but smile at sight of the gold foil box. Opening it, he plucked out a piece of candy. He grimaced as he realized there were only a few left now. As he chewed the bon bon and thought about home, he couldn't help but wish his father had told him how Miss Nell was doing.

The candy dissolved slowly in his mouth, its sweetness recalling thoughts of his mother's kisses to his cheek. His fingers touched the place where her lips would convey her love as she bade him good night each evening. This was the time of day he missed her the most.

As the last traces of chocolate melted in his mouth, he returned the box to its hiding placed, stuffed the letter in his pocket and went back to down to the common room. His maths textbook was waiting.

The cricket match was a big deal, with the house cup in the balance. His mates gathered round him, but Lucien's attention was on the crowd of parents. He scanned the lot of them for the third time, even as he told himself his father wouldn't come. His patients needed him far more than his son did, at least in his father's eyes.

Lucien tamped down his disappointment. Instead, he turned his fierce concentration to winning for his mates. And, perhaps, for his mother.

The match proved to be one-sided, everyone showing particularly well, and Lucien had to keep himself from gloating when he watched Edward Tyneman slam his bat down in frustration. When it was ended, and the winner's cup firmly in the grip of Studley House, Lucien went over to shake hands with the losing side.

He tried not to smirk as he approached Edward, standing with his older brother Patrick, but he may not have been entirely successful.

"What do you want, Blake?" Edward demanded.

"Good match," said Lucien, thrusting out his hand.

Edward slapped it away. "Get lost, you sorry bugger."

Frowning, Patrick said, "Not very sporting, that, Edward. Shake the boy's hand."

Lucien thrust it out again, and Edward grabbed it roughly and pulled the younger boy up flush against him until they were chest to chest. "You're a boorish little blighter, and I'll see you thrown out of this school if it's the last thing I do. Your mother would be ashamed if she could see what a ruffian you are."

"Edward!" Patrick said sharply, nodding in the direction of one of the teachers, Mr. Stephens, who was close enough to hear every word.

Lucien was too angry to note that they had an audience. Extricating himself from Edward's grasp, he drew himself up to his full height, thrust out his jaw, and said coldly, "You have no right to speak of my mother. You didn't know her. My mother taught me to stand up for people who need help, like little chaps who are tormented by bullies like you."

Before he even saw the man approach, both he and Edward were being held by their collars in the grip of Mr. Stephens.

The teacher spoke to Patrick. "Mr. Tyneman, you are no longer a student here so I have no power to discipline you, but as you are a former pupil of this school I had hoped your behavior would be a little more ethical and compassionate. You disappoint me greatly. Now you'll excuse me while I deal with these two over whom I still wield a great deal of power."

Despite being dragged along, Lucien couldn't help but feel a trace of satisfaction at Patrick's angry scowl.

Once inside his office, Mr. Stephens dealt with Edward first, giving him a stern lecture and a week's detention, along with a promise that his parents would be apprised of his lack of character.

Then it was Lucien's turn. He stared down at his shoes until Mr. Stephens used a finger to lift up his chin.

"Tell me the truth now, is that what all these fights have been about? Mr. Tyneman has been bullying the younger boys?"

Lucien remained silent, as required by the code all schoolboys learned early on: no squealing.

Mr. Stephens seemed to understand it and took his silence for confirmation. "Why you, Blake? You're an excellent scholar and a fine athlete. Why risk all that?"

"If not me, who? No one else was willing. Those little ones were terrified, and school shouldn't be like that. They were learning all the wrong things."

"Yes, they were," Mr. Stephens said gently. "And what were you learning from this?"

Lucien considered that for a moment. "Just because someone has power, that doesn't mean they should be able to do what they want, with no regard for others. And if you see a wrong, you have to stand against it, no matter the cost."

"Well, then, I think you're learning the right things. But no more fighting, Mr. Blake. That won't solve anything."

Lucien agreed to stop, but deep in his heart he knew that the problem wasn't about to go away.

Over the next few days, Lucien enjoyed the peace but still felt guilty. Roddy and his other mates were telling him how much better off he was, following the rules, but he had a nagging suspicion that matters were yet to come to a head. It was all still going on, even if he was no longer a part of it.

His doubts led him to retreat to his place of refuge - the rooftop. He went over to the hiding place and pulled out the gold foil box. Only one piece of candy left now, the last tangible trace of his mother. He would save it until things became unbearable, until he really needed her comfort.

Before he could return the box to its hiding place, he heard the door open. He should have known he wouldn't be the only one to seek refuge here. The shadow of the eave concealed him as he turned toward the newcomer. It was little Kenny Rosemont.

Kenny didn't notice him, too intent on something else. The small boy marched directly to the edge of the roof and stared down at the ground far below. His eyes were wide, brimming with tears, but his mouth was set in determination.

Almost instantly, Lucien knew Kenny's intent. He slipped out of the shadows and approached slowly, his voice soft to avoid startling the younger boy.

"Kenny, it's Lucien. Luke. What's wrong, mate?"

The little boy shook his head furiously. "I hate it here."

Lucien gestured toward the precipice. "Maybe you could come away from there so we can talk," he suggested gently.

"Nothing much to say." Kenny did not move. His toes jutted out over the edge of the roofing tiles.

Lucien took a deep breath. "All right, I'll come to you then."

He inched his way forward, trying not to look down. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Again Kenny shook his head.

"Tyneman again?"

Kenny looked over at Lucien and moved his head in an almost imperceptible nod.

"Well, then, I think we need to figure out something to do about it." He glanced at the grass below. "Something that doesn't involve making an awful mess for the gardeners to clean up. What do you say we sit down and talk about it? I'll go first."

Slowly he eased himself down to a seated position, his knees hooked over the edge and his feet dangling. "Now you," he urged.

Kenny hesitated a moment then copied Lucien's movement.

"Do you want to tell me what he did?"

"No," said Kenny, his voice nearly a whisper.

"All right. Now then, we need a way for you to show him who's in charge. He's a big bloke, so fighting is out of the question, right?"

"I can't fight very well," Kenny admitted, "even if he was more my size."

"Right. If only there was something you were really, really good at…"

Kenny hesitated, never one to boast. "I'm quite good at tennis, Luke."

"Quite good? You're bloody brilliant at tennis."

Ducking his head shyly, Kenny began, "I don't see how…"

"The next time he comes at you, call him out. Challenge him to a tennis match. I've watched him, and he's a rubbish player. We'll make sure there's a big crowd to see it happen, too. After that, if he tries anything you can toss a tennis ball at him to remind everyone that he plays like a walrus on roller skates."

Kenny had to stifle a laugh.

"Humiliation is what bullies fear most. He'll want everyone to forget what you did to him. He'll leave you alone as long as you only bring it up when he's threatening you. You think you can do that?"

"I can do that."

"Good. Now what do you say we go back inside? The gardeners will be most grateful."

Both boys slid back away from the precipice and stood up. Lucien clapped a hand on Kenny's shoulder.

"Luke?"

"Hm?"

"How do you always…? I mean, everything seems easy for you."

"It isn't really. I have help," Lucien whispered. "A secret weapon. Would you like to see?"

Kenny nodded.

Lucien turned back to his hiding place and drew out the golden box. He opened it and held it out to Kenny. "This is from my mother, the kindest person I ever knew. Go ahead, take it."

"I can't. It's the last one. What will you do when you need help?"

Lucien smiled. "I don't need these any more. I know she'll always be here to help me. And right now you need it more."

With a glance at Lucien to make sure, Kenny took the piece of candy and slipped it into his pocket. "Luke?"

"Yes?" He returned the now-empty box to its hiding place.

"I think _you're_ the kindest person _I_ ever knew."

Lucien's smile grew wider. "Thank you, Kenny."

He hoped his mother was proud.

 _Epilogue_

The tennis match didn't last long. Edward Tyneman ran all over the court, trying to chase down the shots from his wily opponent. He tried aiming powerful smashes directly at the much smaller boy, but Kenny sidestepped and returned each and every one. After losing the first set 6-1, Edward claimed he had turned an ankle and would not be able to continue, although he was sure he would have won if it weren't for the rotten luck of his injury.

He limped off the court, glaring all the while at Lucien Blake, who, he was sure, had made certain that half the school was in attendance to witness the debacle. Even Edward's friends were skeptical of his "bad luck" excuse.

From that point on, Kenny Rosemont seemed to be surrounded by other boys as he moved around the school grounds, He had become a celebrity of sorts, and Edward had no opportunity to exact revenge. He decided to avoid the younger boy altogether, thus avoiding the knowing smirks of those who had watched his humiliation.

Kenny went on to tennis stardom, winning tournaments around the world. Fans, opponents and the press always remarked on his unfailing kindness to all around him.

Edward's fate was much sadder. He joined the cadets and then the army, where his status as an officer allowed him to treat those below him with disdain. One dark night, he was shot to death during a training exercise. The shooter was never identified, as those in the know closed ranks to hide his identity. There was no shortage of suspects. Edward's surviving brother, Patrick, named his son after him.

Lucien also joined the cadets as soon as he was old enough. He was convinced that being a soldier would show his father he had become a man. He immediately excelled as a leader, but with no evidence that it would earn him the right to go home, he focussed more on his studies, planning to finish his schooling as quickly as possible. Only after he had earned a place at university in Edinburgh did he return to Ballarat. Even then he saw little of his father, who still seemed too busy to make time for him.

It was on his last day at home (he was to leave for uni the following day) that he went into town to say his good-byes once more. His mind was on how to resolve the situation with Monica Parker when he collided with a young girl in her early teens emerging from the dry goods store, her arms loaded down with packages that tumbled to the ground.

"I do beg your pardon," he said quickly. "Are you all right?"

The dark-haired girl with blue-green eyes looked up at him. "My fault, I'm sure. I should have looked before I opened the door."

He bent down to help her recover her parcels. "There you are, I think that's all of them. My, it's quite a load you have. Perhaps I could give you a lift somewhere? My father's car is just over there, Miss…."

"Randall. Jean."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Randall" he said, tipping his cap to her. "Now about that lift?"

She shook her head, her curls bouncing everywhere. "Thank you, that's very kind you, but I can manage," she assured him.

"I'm certain you can," he said, smiling. "Good day to you, then."

He walked on, not noticing that she watched after him. "Very kind…" she repeated, tucking her parcels away more securely as she headed home.


End file.
